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Brad Gallegher
Description The character's physical description provided in great detail. Personality An overall examination of the character's personality traits and quirks. Pre-Game History The character's overall background history. Pertinent Connections * Kyle Crawford -best friend, worst enemy and twin soul (much to his disgust,) but certainly not lover. These two have seen each other through every possible up and down that one's life could offer, and yet Kyle still manages to make Brad roll his eyes in sheer disgust. They Just Can't Be Normal, Can They? "Just put the gas in the tank! It's not that damn hard!" Black Robin, satyr highwayman extraordinare, and Aeneas Dougal, guitarist and failed ladies' man, both stood silently beside the lime-green monstrosity generously referred to as a "car" and listened to these obtuse instructions yelled back to them by Brad Gallegher as he stalked towards the truck stop, dragging his best friend/worst enemy Kyle behind him. Together they watched the magi disappear through the glass doors of the store, and then they turned to regard the "car." A welded heap of miscellaneous parts scavenged from vehicles which had seen better centuries, painted a highly offensive version of what could have been green...in some acid trip from 1967, this was not exactly a "car" in the traditional understanding of the word. Somehow, it comfortably seated four, and managed to make three or five innately unpleasant, as if odd numbers offended the vehicle itself. Its very structure defied reality itself, and now they were being told to "just put gas in the tank" like it was a real car? Aeneas reached a tentative hand towards the thing, then blinked, looking at Robin. "Where the hell is the gas cap, anyway?" The satyr, lounging against the gas pump, crossed his arms and shrugged, eyeing a woman in tight jeans one pump over. "It doesn't run on gas, is my bet. Probably takes souls." "Don't even try it," Brad snapped as he headed for the counter, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. Kyle, hand outstretched for the litre of Mountain Dew, wilted...for half a second before the sound of the truck stop's arcade caught his ears. Brad's dire threats were left hanging in mid-air as the other mage bolted for the colorful lights with a squeal dangerously akin to a teenage girl's. Growling under his breath, Brad offered the amused cashier a tight smile, pointing out the window and putting a fifty on the counter. "Just a fill up on the lime green one, please. I'll be right back." In the arcade, Kyle was already absorbed in Killer Instinct, laughing dementedly as he used the scantily clad Orchid to put the virtual smackdown on Riptor. "Oo yeah! Take that bitch! Like it? LIKE IT?!? Fear the power! Yeah, I said POWER! The power of boobs! You ain't got NOTHING on it!" "Your vocabulary becomes deplorable the moment you have a joystick in your hands," Brad commented wryly from his stance, leaning against Mortal Kombat II. "Which explains why you can never keep a girlfriend." "Look, you bloody man-loving mother-" "Do I even have to finish that for you?" Brad rolled his eyes, then watched Orchid do her victory dance, and grinned despite himself. "Although I can see why the game retains its' popularity amongst true gamers." "Because it rocks?" Kyle's grin was the brilliant expression of the poor, pitiful fool who quite happily puts their foot in the open bear trap while the laughing sadist reassures them that "oh no, that spring is just for decoration...go ahead and step on it." "That, I suppose...or the fact that the aging gamers who cannot gracefully let go of their teenage 'glory' years continue to purchase arcade games such as this, or personal system versions simply to perpetuate the game-inspired sexual fantasies that sustain them through their involuntary vows of chastity," Brad said smoothly, turning on his heel and strolling towards the Subway situated in the back of the store. Kyle, his hands still on the controls, blinked once. Blinked again...and then a third time, his eyes still focused on the thin air where Brad had been. Then...a glimmer of thought, a dawning realisation, and his eyes widened. "HEY!" When the door to the truck stop opened, a storm blew out, followed by a giggling hunchback. ...or at least that was Robin's initial impression as the satyr straightened from helping Aeneas check his foot to ensure he hadn't broken every bone in it (just two) wrestling the so-called "gas cap" back onto the "car." Blinking, he watched the thunderstorm that was Brad stalk to the vehicle, the tangle of metal which apparently served as a door opening with a yank of his hand. The satyr looked at the hunchback which was a bent-over Kyle, currently laughing so hard he could hardly breathe. "What the hell is his problem?" Robin peered through the thick plate of glass which served as a side window, then looked back at Kyle. "He....he tri...tried to..." Collapsing onto the stained asphalt, the mage gave himself over to peals of raucous laughter. Aeneas, hobbling to the driver's side, leaned down to the open window, listening for a few moments before he, too, collapsed with laughter, leaning against the side panel (or at least what could generously be referred to as such) of the "car." Robin stamped a hoof, glaring at the sidhe and Kyle. "What the fuck? Tell me! What bloody happened? I'll start nut-whacking," he said threateningly, eyeing the mage on the ground. Kyle recovered enough air, grinning manically, to relate Brad's smug attempt to pick up the girl working at the Subway, only to watch as she greeted her girlfriend coming in to relieve her on her shift. Robin listened with a growing smirk, and then strolled over to lean against the driver's side of the "car," his grin shining brighter than the half moon in the sky. "So, mind reader, what was that you told me once about my chances of picking up the right woman in a crowd as compared to yours?" Exuding an aura of smug, Robin leaned down and prodded Brad's shoulder through the open window, such as it was. "What, did she say you were almost girly enough to be her type?" The satyr laughed at his own joke, then faltered when Brad turned blazing eyes on him. Whitening, he swallowed and stepped back, away from the enraged mage, and then hurried around the car to muffle his laughter in Aeneas' shoulder. In the car, Brad growled under his breath, tightening his hands on the rubber snake fashioned into a wheel. One deep even breath after another, and he snarled at the CD player, for lack of anything better to growl at. "That's the last damn time I try quoting Oscar Wilde at a woman to score points." Category:Bookcase